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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27596600">Whenever You Need Me...</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyarikaa/pseuds/cyarikaa'>cyarikaa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Reader Insert, Romantic Fluff, they are so in love it hurts me to watch it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 00:20:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,724</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27596600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyarikaa/pseuds/cyarikaa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>            <br/><sub>Din was a silent man. He spoke when he had to, when he felt it was important - and <i>this</i>… this was <i>so</i> important, but Din could not speak. His throat went dry as he felt your touch in his grasp and when he looked into those pools you called eyes once more - the very things that got him into this mess in the first place - he was lost.</sub><br/>            </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Din Djarin/Reader, Din Djarin/You, Mando/reader, Mando/you, The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Reader, The Mandalorian/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2017487</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>131</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Whenever You Need Me...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  <sub><i><a href="https://cyarikaprompts.tumblr.com/post/643402201294946304/%F0%9D%90%8D%F0%9D%90%A8%F0%9D%90%A7-%F0%9D%90%92%F0%9D%90%9E%F0%9D%90%B1%F0%9D%90%AE%F0%9D%90%9A%F0%9D%90%A5-%F0%9D%90%80%F0%9D%90%9C%F0%9D%90%AD%F0%9D%90%AC-%F0%9D%90%A8%F0%9D%90%9F-%F0%9D%90%80%F0%9D%90%9F%F0%9D%90%9F%F0%9D%90%9E%F0%9D%90%9C%F0%9D%90%AD%F0%9D%90%A2%F0%9D%90%A8%F0%9D%90%A7">PROMPT:</a></i> my muse touches a bruise on your muse’s body with concern</sub>
</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <sub>It all happened so fast. One moment, Oga’s Cantina in Batuu was normal...if you could <i>ever</i> even call anything Oga Garra owned ‘normal’... but that's not to say it wasn’t packed, each seat in the house full and each booth fitting in as many patrons as it could. It was dark in patches and shining with bright fluorescent lights in others. Music was playing - <i>loudly</i>, Mando thought - over each and every voice in the cantina by the hands of the clubs own R-3X… it was Oga’s own kind of normal. Which meant that it was suspicious, but still safe, still a good place to sit down for a moment and grab a bite to eat and a good drink. However, it wasn’t Mando’s normal spot.</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>His normal spot was in a small corner of the Razor Crest, anytime after the child had fallen asleep when he knew he was finally, <i>truly</i> alone. When things were good and quiet he would grab himself something to eat and find that corner. He could remove his helmet then and there - <i>for only a moment</i> - just long enough to shove whatever meat he had hunted down his throat and be done with it. <i>That</i> was Mando’s normal spot… that silent, dark corner. However, Mando had not had much alone time as of late… not since he found you.</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>That was why he was at Oga’s.</sub><br/>
<sub>You were hungry.</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>Mando didn’t take in strays. He had a rule about it. One he had now broken… <i>twice.</i></sub><br/>
<sub>He swore he wouldn’t break it the first time, but then he got a look at that damned kid and he knew he had to… just once.</sub><br/>
<sub>It was then he made himself a promise not to take anything else into his care… but then he saw your eyes and he knew that he <i>had</i> to break the rule, just one more time. He couldn’t let someone like you live on your own, try and survive on your own. It wouldn’t be fair, it wouldn’t be <i>right</i>… not for someone with that look in their eyes. So, he took you in. He gave you a home, a place to stay. All he asked is that you watched the child when he couldn’t and that you made sure his ship was safe.</sub><br/>
<sub>If you could do that then you could stay.</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>However, overtime he had begun to ask more and more of you.</sub><br/>
<sub>He asked you to fly the ship, to go with him to obscure towns to meet obscure people, and (in some instances he had not entirely planned for) to fight alongside him. It was all too much, much more than you had signed up for originally, much more than he had <i>promised</i> you. And Mando did not know how to admit it, how to say it so you would easily understand, but he felt a sense of guilt for everything he had put you through.</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>Which is why he <i>thought</i> taking you to dinner would be nice.</sub><br/>
<sub>Which is why he <i>thought</i> making a quick stop at Oga’s Cantina would be good… but he was wrong.</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>He should have noticed him.</sub><br/>
<sub>Din could not help but replay the scene over and over again in his mind and he should have noticed him. <i>How had he not noticed him?</i> It was not as though Devaronian’s were hard to spot. They were <i>big</i> and <i>tall</i> and <i>bright</i>. For the love of the maker, they were <i>so conspicuous</i> wherever they went. His bright red skin under the light of the fluorescent lamp in the corner of the cantina should not have hid him as well as it did… yet, it had. Din had not noticed him.</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>Din kept asking himself how he could have done better, how he could have seen more clearly. What more could he have done to make himself more perceptive to his surroundings, to threats to himself, to the kid, <i>to you</i>? But every time Din asked himself that question he couldn’t focus. All he could see were your eyes, specifically the one on your right.</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>How could something that happened so fast be <i>so</i> daunting?</sub><br/>
<sub>The bruising on your face was vibrant - shining in shades of purple and blue so bright and in such wide strokes across your skin that they almost looked purposeful, decorative in shape and color and design. Yet, this was <i>not</i> what Din had intended at all. It was not what anyone had intended… not even that damned Devaronian.</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>“This was not supposed to happen.” The Mandalorian spoke, “Not to you.”</sub><br/>
<sub>His words were crisp, but quiet. Yet, they engulfed all the air in the silent room.</sub><br/>
<sub>There was a tone to each word, one that you had not heard The Mandalorian speak in before.</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>Regret. Guilt. Pain.</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>Din had already been attempting to make up for all the pain and the burden he had put upon you with the cheap <i>shlop</i> you had been served at Oga’s. He thought he had finally done it, too. The smile that was painted on your face in the cantina… it was something Din hadn’t seen on you before. There was so much happiness within it that he could not understand. He sat next to you, simply watching you eat some cheap, half-rate meal in yet another hell ridden town that he had dragged you to - and yet, despite all the negatives that Din saw, you were <i>so</i> happy. And your eyes… the colors within them were swirling and sparkling and <i>screaming</i> out some kind of joyous content that Din had never seen within you before... and then this had to go and happen, had to ruin everything Din had worked so hard to fix. Now Din’s list of regrets regarding you was just beginning to pile up higher and higher - and this was right at the top of the list. Bruises marring your eye, running down your cheekbone, over to your parted lips where a small gash stood vibrantly shaded in red. You did not deserve that.</sub><br/>
<sub><i>Just another thing to add to the list</i>, Din thought, <i>just another mistake.</i></sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>“‘S wasn’t your fault.” You whispered, meeting his delicate tone with one of your own, “You did not hurt me.”</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>But <i>god</i> had it felt as though he had. He could feel it in his core. In some way or another he <i>had</i> done this.</sub><br/>
<sub>“I should have paid more attention.” He said, “I shouldn’t have been so distracted.”</sub>
</p><p><sub>There was part of you that wanted to ask what had him so distracted - so <i>uncharacteristically</i> distracted, in fact… but you knew the answer. Deep down in your heart, <i>you knew</i>. You could not see The Mandalorian’s face - you never had - but the beskar that sat at his head had been turned in your direction in the cantina for so long that it could not have been accidental. His helmet had been cocked to the side, tiling down at your figure. It was still and he was silent for so long… you knew where The Mandalorian had been looking. You knew what had him so distracted.</sub>
</p><p>
    <sub>When the Devaronian came to the booth and raised his fist in the air, swinging it with anger and passion and triumph The Mandalorian did all he could in such a short time to protect himself, to protect the child… he did all he could, and you knew that, and you were <i>happy</i> with that.</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub><i>Maker</i>, you were so <i>stupidly</i> happy.</sub><br/>
<sub>For someone who had been full-force punched in the face by a full-grown Devaronian male, you were smiling far too much, but you could not help it. It was all Mando’s fault.</sub>
</p><p>
    <sub>All you could think about was the way he fought back twice as hard as you had ever seen him fight after you were hit; the way he brought you back to the Crest (<i>back home</i>) and sat you down on his bed, cleaning you up and cooing at you softly and gently every time he pressed against a cut just a bit too hard for your liking; the way he stood <i>so close</i> to you, resting his gloved fingers against the marks along your cheek, rubbing gently against them like he could wipe them clean from your skin; It was the way The Mandalorian whispered to you sweetly every time you felt pain.
  </sub>
</p><p>
    <sub>“You will be alright.”</sub><br/>
<sub>“I am here now.”</sub><br/>
<sub>“You don’t have to worry anymore.”</sub>
</p><p>
    <sub><i>God</i>, you were <i>so</i> happy… you knew you shouldn’t have, but you could not help but show it.</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>You placed your right hand over Mando’s own - the one that was still fussing at your cheek, tracing over the marks. His hand stilled for a moment as you intertwined your fingers with his, and his glance shifted over to meet your own.</sub><br/>
<sub>“Thank you.” You whispered, and Mando was silent, still, shocked.</sub>
</p><p>
    <sub>You placed your left hand on the jaw of his beskar, running it down to the chin, hooking a finger underneath it, keeping his vision fixed on you as you hopped down from your seat and stood beside him. You kept close to his form - close enough to hear his breathing through the stiff metal beskar. And when you finally felt Mando’s hand relax in your own, when you felt the weight of his helmet lean into your hand, searching for the comfort you were giving, you whispered again.</sub>
</p><p>
    <sub>“Thank you, Mando, for protecting me.”</sub>
</p><p>
    <sub>Din was a silent man. He spoke when he had to, when he felt it was important - and this… <i>this</i> was <i>so</i> important, but Din could not speak. His throat went dry as he felt your touch in his grasp and when he looked into those pools you called eyes once more - the very things that got him into this mess in the first place - he was lost. His brain could not think of a single word in any language he knew. All he could think to do was move a step closer - knowing his voice was going to come out in nothing more than a gentle whisper, knowing he wanted you to hear what he had to say nonetheless - and he spoke.</sub>
</p><p>
  <sub>“<i>Cyar’ika</i>....” He mued, gripping your hand in his own - <i>tight</i> - like you might just let go, like you might just melt in his arms,<br/>
“Whenever you need I will be there.”</sub>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <sub>･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* <i><a href="https://cyarika-writes.carrd.co/">come find me, babes</a></i> *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧</sub>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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